Written: November 20, 2001
Comments about this story can be sent to: walfox@yahoo.com

Commitment

by

M Butterfly

   "Starsky! Where the hell have you been? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

   But instead of moving over to let Hutch out, Starsky put both hands on his partner’s tense shoulders and pushed him back into the apartment, kicking the door shut. "Gotta talk to you," he said, maneuvering them over to the couch. "Now."

   His impatience growing, Hutch glanced at the living room clock. "The r-r-rehearsal starts in--shit!--five minutes, and they’re all waiting at the ch-church. We can talk in the car."

   "No."

   No? Then Hutch looked at Starsky--really looked at him--and his gut twisted. Something was wrong. Horribly wrong. He could see it in the firm set of his friend’s jaw. In the total lack of mischief in those bottomless blue eyes. "Starsk? What is it? What happened?"

   "Aw, Hutch." He released one of Hutch’s shoulders and wiped his hand across his pale, pinched face.

   "Goddamnit, Starsky!" Fear was building in tandem with the legendary Hutchinson temper. "Tell me! Is it B-B-Bonnie? Did something happen to her?"

   "Not like you think." He rubbed at his forehead. Another bad sign.

   Hutch took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "Starsky. I’m giving you to the count of three to tell me what the--"

   "It’s not your baby."

   That was the last thing he expected to hear. Maybe he’d misheard. "What?"

   "It’s not your baby, " Starsky repeated, his voice thick and uneven, still not able to look at his friend. "You’re not the father, Hutch. Bonnie knew she was pregnant before she started seeing you."

   "How do you...why are...? What are you talking about? I’m getting m-m-married tomorrow! How would you know the b-baby’s not mine?"

   "I, uh, I saw the test results myself," Starsky said, addressing the floor.

   "Jesus Christ!" Hutch lurched to his feet. "I don’t believe this."

   "I’m sorry." The hand that groped for Hutch’s arm was batted away ruthlessly.

   "How dare you! How dare you show up the night before the w-w-wedding and try to ruin everything with your..." His face squinched as he searched for just the right words. "With your filthy lies."

   Starsky’s head swung up. "I’d never lie to you, Hutch. You know that. And the reason why I was late comin’ over here tonight was that I just found out. Otherwise, I woulda told you sooner."

   "What did you do, anyway? Break into her doctor’s office and read her medical records? Or did you get someone else to do your dirty work for you? Is that it? Is that what you did? Huh, buddy? Pal?"

   Starsky dropped his eyes again, but only for a moment.

   "You son-of-a-bitch!" In less than the time it took to blink, Hutch had Starsky by the collar and on his back, pinned beneath him. "What the fuck’s the matter with you?" he yelled into the startled face. "How could you even think of doing something like that?"

   "You woulda done the same if you were me," Starsky said, making no effort to escape. In fact, he covered Hutch’s hands with his own. "I--I didn’t want you to get hurt again."

   Snorting his disgust, Hutchinson clambered off his partner and stalked away. "I don’t believe this! You’re such a fucking hypocrite."

   "Just wait one damn minute!" Starsky shot off the couch, spinning Hutch around to face him and clutching fistfuls of soft brown leather. "You think this is easy for me? That I like tellin’ you that Bonnie’s been usin’ you all along?"

   The blond cop managed to pull one hand free of Starsky’s grasp and pointed at him, stabbing viciously at the air between them. "Yeah. That’s exactly what I think."

   Starsky looked and sounded like he was going to break down, which always did Hutch in. But not this time. "Aw, you don’t mean that, Hutch."

   "Don’t tell me what I mean or don’t mean. What’s your problem anyway, huh? Why can’t you ever be happy for me?"

   "Hutch--"

   "I guess I should get down on my knees and thank you for laying this on me tonight, instead of waiting ’til the middle of the ce-ceremony like one of those stupid old movies of yours."

   "Hutch, c’mon. That’s not f--"

   "You’re supposed to be my best man, Starsky. My best friend."

   "I am. You know I am."

   "You sure as hell don’t act like it." Hutch could see how deeply that cut, but didn’t care.

   "I sure as hell do." Again Starsky latched onto the other man’s arms with frantic fingers. "Listen to me. Listen, damnit! From the day Bonnie started working for Dobey, she was looking for a husband. The reason I know is because after you announced your engagement, Minnie told me that Bonnie had practically interrogated her and all the other women about every single guy at Parker Center. Who was a gentleman? Who was good with kids? The works."

   "You’re full of shit."

   "No!" Starsky held on tighter to his squirming partner. "I swear it’s true. Whether you know it or not, you’ve got a reputation for being a knight in shining armour--the guy on the white horse--and that’s why she picked you. She knew that you’d do the right thing by her if you thought you’d knocked her up. Jesus, Hutch! You don’t even want to get married. I know you don’t."

   "You don’t know anything."

   "Oh, yes I do. I know how your mind works. I know that you like her well enough, but you don’t love her. Not enough to spend the rest of your life with. And I know that if you go through with this, she’ll have the baby six months from now and tell you it was premature. And expect you to believe her."

   With a huge effort, Hutchinson shrugged out of Starsky’s grip. "You never liked Bonnie." He voice was low and dangerous. "Or Gillian."

   "Hutch--"

   "Come to think of it, you’ve never liked any of the women I’ve been with. Vanessa. Jeanie. Abby. My God!" He ran his hands through his fine, fly-away hair, sorely tempted to tear it out by the roots. "I can’t believe it’s taken me all this time to figure out what a sick, jealous bastard you really are."

   Starsky’s features went slack. "You have no idea."

   "No, I guess I don’t." Hutch indicated the door with his chin. "Now get the hell out of here."

   "Fine." Starsky walked slowly across the room, then turned and met Hutch’s murderous glare with glassy, miserable eyes. "I just got one more thing to say to you, Hutch, and then I’ll go."

   "I’m waiting."

   "I know that, one day, you’re gonna meet a lady you really love, and who loves you back the way you deserve. It’s gonna break my heart, but I’ll be happy for you because--because your friendship is the most important thing in my life, and your happiness means everything to me. Even more than my own. And that’s the truth, whether you choose to believe it or not."

   Hutch picked up the nearest object--a small table lamp--and hurled it at the door as it closed softly behind his ex-best man.

~~~~~~~~~~

   Starsky was there, all right.

   Hutch had nearly wept with joy when he saw that ridiculous red car parked outside The Pits. He cleared his throat, sucked in his stomach, and made a beeline for the corner booth where his rumpled partner sat across from Huggy, staring into the bottom of a half empty beer glass.

   As Hutch approached, Huggy got to his feet and patted Starsky on the shoulder. "Take it easy, my man," he said, then nodded gravely at Hutch and was gone.

   "Hey," Hutch said, sliding into the opposite side of the booth. "I’ve been looking for you since last night."

   Starsky continued to contemplate his beer. "Oh?"

   "Yeah. Where ya been?"

   "Here and there." So noncommittal. So unlike Starsky.

   Hutch wished the guy would look at him. "I called off the w-w-wedding." He gave a self-deprecating little shrug, but the gesture went unnoticed. "I guess you figured that out already, huh?"

   "Yeah." A shaky finger traced aimless patterns along the sweating glass. "Huggy told me. ’M sorry."

   "Oh, Starsk." Hutchinson reached over and gently took hold of a tense forearm, which succeeded in getting Starsky’s attention. Despite the bar’s dim lighting, Hutch could see that his friend’s colour was off. Way off. Shit. "I’m the one who should be apologizing here. I was mad at myself--Bonnie too, but mostly at myself for being such a chump--and I took it out on you. Like always. You’ve got to stop letting me do that, you know."

   Again Starsky averted his eyes, this time focusing on the long fingers that were flexing on his sleeve, digging far too pleasantly into his flesh. "You had every right to be ticked off at me. I had no business stickin’ my nose in where it didn’t belong, diggin’ up dirt on your--on Bonnie. If I hadn’t interfered, it might’ve worked out for you two. You might’ve lived happily ever after. The perfect, blond, all-American family. But now we’ll never know, will we?"

   Hutch started to reply, only to snap his mouth shut when Anita came over to drop off a couple of beers, compliments of Huggy. "Starsk," he said when they were alone once more, "a marriage built on a foundation of lies and deceit isn’t likely to be very successful. You were right to do what you did. If the shoe was on the other foot--if you told me you were gonna marry somewhere you barely knew, and then I found out she’d been husband-hunting right up ’til the day she met you--I would’ve been pretty damned suspicious too."

   Keeping his head lowered, Starsky looked up shyly through thick, dark lashes. "Yeah?"

   "Oh, yeah." For the first time that day, Hutch smiled a real smile--not a big one, but at least it was genuine. "You were right about everything. I never wanted to marry her. And I wasn’t in love with her. God, she’s a piece of work. When she finally admitted that the baby wasn’t mine, she still tried to talk me into going through with the wedding."

   "Ya gotta feel kinda sorry for her, though. I mean, whoever did get her pregnant must’ve really done a number on her to make her this desperate."

   "Thanks a lot, partner," Hutch said, full of mock indignation. That brought just the hint of a smile to Starsky’s lips. "I don’t think I’m that bad."

   Starsky snorted.

   Ah, sweet progress.

   After a moment’s hesitation, Hutch picked up his glass and nearly drained it, then added to Starsky’s surprise by taking Starsky’s hand. The man had magnificent hands. Sturdy and efficient, yet capable of the lightest, most delicate touch when the need arose. And Hutch had always been so needy where Starsky’s hands were concerned. "She did say one thing that I haven’t been able to get out of my head. Something that actually made sense."

   "Oh?"

   "It didn’t take her long to figure out how I knew what she was up to, and you know what she said? She said there was no need to cancel the wedding because you were the one I really wanted. The way she said it, she meant it as an insult. But--" The fingers interlaced with Starsky’s tightened. "Starsk, did you mean what you said last night?"

   "Huh?"

   "About your--your heart breaking if I ever really fell in love and got married."

   Starsky’s chalky face reddened so quickly that it was almost comical. Almost. He looked down to their joined hands and tried to pull free, but was caught by the wrist.

   "Hey," Hutch soothed. "I’ll let go in a minute--I promise--and you can walk away if that’s what you want. But first I need to know what you meant. You also said something about being jealous..."

   "You already know exactly what I meant." It came out as something between a whisper and a croak.

   "Do I?"

   Defeated, Starsky dropped his face into his right palm. "You know goddamn well you do."

   Enough was enough. Without breaking contact, Hutch moved to the other side of the table and shoved Starsky over until he was pinned between the wall and Hutch’s hip. The blond let go of Starsky’s wrist and splayed a big, warm hand over his knee.

   "Hey," he breathed into Starsky’s ear. "We’re partners. Best friends. It’s no big secret that we love each other, and it’s been the best kind of love I’ve ever had. You too, I think. We got affectionate real fast, and I’ve always enjoyed it. Needed it. It’s never been the same with anyone else. Not even Van. Not even close." He gave Starsky’s knee a gentle squeeze. "For some time now, I’ve been wondering what it would be like if the affection between us turned into something sexual. How it would feel to go that little bit further. But I had no idea you were thinking about it too. God, I was so freaked out last night that I didn’t even clue in until Bonnie made that remark about me preferring you over her."

   While Hutch had been talking and squeezing, Starsky rediscovered his neck muscles and managed to lift and turn his head to stare at the man pressed up against him.

   Gazing back with equal intensity, Hutch sighed. "If I’d have known about any of this, mush brain, I never would’ve gotten involved with Bonnie in the first place. I want you to know that."

   It was obvious that Hutch was waiting for Starsky to say something--anything--so the man found his tongue and obliged. "I want you to know something too, Hutch. I’m a greedy bastard. I want it all. The partnership. The friendship." He tapped Hutchison on the chest, then himself. "The whole enchilada."

   "Me too."

   "That’s not all," he said, clutching at Hutch’s jacket a little frantically. "I want us to be exclusive. I’d rather not have you than share you. Christ, I feel like I’ve been doin’ that ever since we met."

   The hand that wasn’t stroking Starsky’s leg under the table reached over and captured Starsky’s chin. "You willing to do the same for me? Give up women?"

   "I wouldn’t be putting myself through all this if I wasn’t, dummy." But he was having a hard time keeping a straight face. His relief was that apparent.

   Hutch leaned in closer, completely fascinated by the little twitches his partner’s mouth was making. "You know," he said, letting the pads of his fingers skitter across slightly stubbled skin, "I paid in advance for a luxury suite at the Hilton. It would be a real shame to let it go to waste. Wanna come with me?"

   Starsky swallowed. "Now?"

   "After we stop by your place to pack."

   "Pack? For one night? Why not just go to the drugstore for toothbrushes?"

   God. Hutch wanted to kiss him so badly. "Because, Mr. Smart Guy, we’re leaving for the Bahamas tomorrow afternoon, and we won’t get very far on just a couple of toothbrushes."

   "You’re kidding."

   "Uhn-uhn. When I saw Dobey this morning, I told him I was taking next week off as planned. Then I asked him to give you the time off, too. He said okay. Thought we could both use a vacation."

   Starsky’s eyes were enormous. "Hutch. I can’t afford a vacation like that."

   Hutch’s wandering fingers floated over Starsky’s cheek and into his hair. "Don’t worry about the money, Starsk. It was a wedding present. From my parents. They were so damned happy when I told them I’d called things off with Bonnie that they said I should go anyway and take the person who--and I quote--saved me from a ‘life of pure misery.’ That is, if you wanna go."

   "Hell yes, I wanna go."

   Jesus, but Starsky’s hair was wonderful to touch. Hutch had always loved playing with it, twisting the curls around his fingers...

   "Ahem."

   Both men jumped. But not enough to let go of each other.

   "Gentlemen," Huggy continued, wagging a long, skinny digit. "I’m sure you haven’t noticed, but the place is starting to fill up, and I don’t want my customers to get the wrong impression about what kind of establishment I’m running here. So, in other words, why don’t you turkeys go get a room?"

   Hutch knew he was blushing furiously. Even the back of his neck felt hot. Funny how it wasn’t bothering him in the least. "That’s exactly what we’re gonna do, Hug. See you in a week. C’mon, Starsk."

   Huggy watched as the grinning idiots wrapped their arms around each other and swaggered out of The Pits like mismatched Siamese twins.

   "Hey," said Anita, pausing to put the cops’ unfinished beers on her tray, "Hutch looks pretty good for a guy who just broke up with his fiancée."

   Still staring at the door, Huggy shook his head slowly, from side to side. "Just because there’s no wedding don’t mean there’s no honeymoon."

   But Anita had already moved on, so Huggy shrugged his bony shoulder and made a mental note to send his unorthodox friends an anniversary card a year from now.

THE END